and there with detachments of troops, plundering, burning, and ravaging
the neighborhood. Washington was fully occupied in repulsing the enemy
engaged in this sort of warfare.
As illustration of the cruel measures adopted by the British commander,
an expedition was sent to Connecticut; they captured the fort at New
Haven, destroyed all the vessels in the harbor, with all the artillery,
ammunition, and stores, and plundered several private houses. They
burned the town of Fairfield, destroying ninety-seven dwelling houses,
sixty-seven barns and stables, forty-eight store-houses, three places of
worship, two school-houses, a court-house, a jail, and all the vessels
and public stores they could lay their hands on. Norwalk was also burned
in the same ruthless manner; and the depredations extended into
Massachusetts, injuring or destroying such towns as offered good harbors
for privateers.
Exasperated by the reluctance of the Tories to flock to the British
standard, and the numerous desertions of English and Germans from his
army, King George sent his emissaries to instigate the savages of the
Mohawk to plunder and butchery. The terrible massacres of Cherry Valley
and Wyoming, in which hundreds of men, women, and children were
remorselessly slaughtered, and their habitations committed to the
flames, followed. The brutality of those scenes are known to the world,
because they are matters of history.
Some of the ablest statesmen of England fearlessly denounced the king
and his court for prosecuting a war with such barbarity. Lord Chatham
declared:
"Were I an American as I am an Englishman, I would never lay down my
arms: never, _never_, NEVER!"
The king and his court maintained, however, that they were justified in
resorting to any measures to subdue American rebels.
Two remarkable expeditions which Washington organized that year were
those which captured Stoney Point, under General Wayne; and Paulus Hook,
under Major Henry Lee. These grand achievements inspirited the American
army, and did much to convince the British that they were engaged in a
fruitless attempt to reduce the Colonies to their domination.
As winter approached, the French fleet, which sailed from Boston to the
West Indies, appeared off the Southern coast, to co-operate with General
Lincoln, who commanded the Southern Department. On this account the
British commander was compelled to operate in that direction.
Washington, whose headquarters had been at West Point for several
months, went into winter quarters at Morristown, where the experience of
Valley Forge was repeated with additional rigor.
The cruel treatment of Americans captured by the British had long
engaged Washington's attention, and reference to it here is in point.
Many of their prisoners were confined in old ships, where they suffered
all that hunger, thirst, filth, and abuse could inflict. On account of
the dreadful sufferings endured by the prisoners, these ships were
called "floating hells."
The "Jersey Prison Ship" and the old "Sugar House," converted into
prisons by Lord Howe, are notorious for their infamous character in
American history. Congress appealed in vain to the commanding British
general, and Washington wrote to him upon the subject again and again.
In one letter Washington said:
"From the opinion I have ever been taught to entertain of your
lordship's humanity, I will not suppose that you are privy to
proceedings of so cruel and unjustifiable a nature; and I hope that,
upon making the proper inquiry, you will have the matter so regulated
that the unhappy persons whose lot is captivity may not in the future
have the miseries of cold, disease, and famine added to their other
misfortunes.... I should not have said thus much, but my injured
countrymen have long called upon me to endeavor to obtain a redress of
their grievances, and I should think myself as culpable as those who
inflict such severities upon them were I to continue silent."
A Rev. Mr. Andros of Massachusetts was confined in the "Jersey Prison
Ship." After his escape and the close of the war, he published a small
book detailing the sufferings of its occupants. One brief paragraph
therefrom is all our space will permit.
"Her dark and filthy exterior corresponded with the death and despair
reigning within. It is supposed that eleven thousand American seaman
perished in her. None came to relieve their woes. Once or twice, by
order of a stranger on the quarter-deck a bag of apples was hurled
promiscuously into the midst of hundreds of prisoners, crowded as thick
as they could stand, and life and limb were endangered in the struggle.
The prisoners were secured between the decks by iron gratings; and when
the ship was to be cleared of watch, an armed guard forced them up to
the winches, amid a roar of execrations and reproaches, the dim light
adding to the horrors of the scene. Thousands died whose names have
never been known, perishing when no eye could witness their fortitude,
nor praise their devotion to their country."
The brave Lingan, hero of Fort Washington, was confined in the "Jersey;"
and it was amid the horrors around him that he exclaimed:
"Sweet, O my country, should be thy liberties, when they are purchased
at this monstrous price!"
Custis relates that one day, when a coffin was brought in which proved
too short for the dead comrade, and it was proposed to cut off his head
in order to adapt the body to the receptacle, Lingan "sprang from his
couch of pain, and, laying his hand upon the lifeless corpse of the
departed soldier, swore he would destroy the first man who should thus
mutilate the body of his friend."
XXII.
CLOSE OF THE WAR.
The treason of Arnold in 1780 contributed, on the whole, to the fidelity
of the army in 1781. The poorest soldier in the ranks scorned "to become
an Arnold."
Washington placed Arnold in command at West Point in 1780. Arnold had
long been interceding for the position, and it was found subsequently
that he had been in treasonable correspondence with the British
commander fifteen months when he assumed command of that post. The
correspondence was commenced voluntarily by Arnold, and was conducted on
the part of Sir Henry Clinton by his aid, Major John Andre, under the
signature of John Anderson.
General Arnold was harassed by burdensome debts. He was a gambler, too,
and, of course, devoid of moral principle. His object was to pay his
debts with British gold.
His correspondence ripened into a plan by Arnold to deliver West Point
into the hands of the British, for which purpose a midnight meeting was
arranged between him and Major Andre. The meeting occurred at Dobb's
Ferry, when Arnold delivered to Andre a plan of the works at West Point,
together with a plan of attack by the British, when the post would be
surrendered on the ground that the American troops were too few to hold
it. The papers were concealed in Andre's stockings.
On his return, even after he had passed the American lines, three
patriotic representatives of the New York yeomanry, John Paulding, Isaac
Van Wart, and David Williams, stopped him, the first aiming his musket
at his head.
"Gentlemen, I hope you belong to our party," said Andre with as much
composure as he could command.
"What party?" responded Paulding.
"The lower party," replied Andre.
"We do," they said.
"I am a British officer, and have been up the country on particular
business," continued Andre, now feeling that he was among friends. He
was deceived by the dress which Paulding wore,--that of a refugee.
Paulding had been a prisoner in the hands of the British, confined in
that terrible prison known as the "Sugar House." He was released only
four days before. In that place his citizen's suit was taken from him,
and replaced by the refugee garb, so that the barbarity of Andre's
countrymen became the cause of his detection.
"I must not be detained for a moment," continued Andre, taking out his
gold watch, the sight of which showed to his captors that he was a man
of consequence.
"We are Americans, and you are our prisoner!" exclaimed Paulding.
Andre was astounded by this revelation, and he was ready to pay any
amount of money to his captors if they would let him go.
"Dismount!" shouted Paulding, seizing his horse's bridle.
"Beware, gentlemen, or you will get yourselves into trouble," replied
Andre.
"We will take care of that," retorted Paulding. "Any letters about you?"
"No."
"We'll find out about that," said Paulding; and they proceeded to search
him. Finding nothing of a suspicious character about his clothes, they
were disposed to let him proceed, when Paulding said:
"Boys, I am not satisfied; his boots must come off."
His boots were drawn off, and the concealed papers were found in his
stockings.
"My God!" exclaimed Paulding, "he is a spy."
They conducted their prisoner to North Castle, and he was finally hung
as a spy.
Arnold escaped to a British man-of-war, and figured thereafter as a
general in the king's army, despised even by those who commissioned him.
Near the close of the winter of 1781, and through the spring, the enemy
committed many depredations on our coast, in which Arnold played a
conspicuous part. In Virginia and Connecticut his command wantonly
destroyed a large amount of property. New London was burned under his
generalship. Washington employed every means possible to capture the
traitor, but in vain.
The British directed their chief efforts against the South, designing to
spread consternation by their terrible ravages. Richmond was laid in
ashes. Along the shores of the Potomac and Chesapeake they plundered and
burned. They threatened to destroy Washington's home at Mount Vernon,
and landed for the purpose of applying the torch to every building. The
agent, Lund Washington, saved the property from destruction by
furnishing the enemy with a large quantity of supplies. When the general
heard what his agent had done, he wrote to him as follows:
"I am very sorry to hear of your loss; I am a little sorry to hear of my
own; but that which gives me most concern is, that you should go on
board the enemy's vessels, and furnish them with refreshments. It would
have been a less painful circumstance to me to have heard that, in
consequence of your non-compliance with their request, they had burnt my
house and laid the plantation in ruins."
In July, 1781, Washington planned an attack upon New York by the
combined French and American forces. But his purpose was suddenly
changed by hearing that the portion of the French fleet at the West
Indies, under Count de Grasse, had sailed for the Chesapeake. Cornwallis
was at Yorktown with his command, and his capture would give the
Americans an illustrious prisoner. General Lafayette, who had returned
from France, was in Virginia, looking after the British general as well
as he could.
Immediately Washington put his army in motion for Virginia, leaving only
troops enough to guard the passes of the Hudson. He marched directly for
Williamsburg, to join Lafayette. On his way he called at Mount Vernon,
from which he had been absent six years. "Here, unannounced, he darted
into his home, like the first sunbeam after a storm, only to disappear
again under as black a cloud as any of those that had brought the
thunder. He had come but to tell his wife that he was on his way to seek
a battle, an unequal though glorious contest, from which he might never
return."
Washington joined Lafayette at Williamsburg on the 14th of September.
Hastily arranging the siege of Yorktown, Cornwallis was surprised, one
bright morning, to find that the heights around him were swarming with
American soldiers, and the bay in front securely occupied by the French
fleet.
On the 6th of October the bombardment of the British works commenced
with terrible earnestness. An eye witness said:
"General Washington put the match to the first gun, and a terrible
discharge of cannon and mortars immediately followed."
"What part of the town can be most effectively cannonaded?" Washington
inquired of Governor Nelson, who was present.
Pointing to a large, fine house on an eminence, the governor replied:
"That is probably the headquarters of the enemy; fire at that."
It was Governor Nelson's own residence.
Four days the cannonading continued with great effect. At the expiration
of that time, Washington ordered the capture of two redoubts, lying
between him and the British works. These redoubts were so near as to
prove a great annoyance to the American troops. To the Americans was
assigned the capture of one, and to the French the capture of the other.
At the point of the bayonet these redoubts were taken; not a gun was
fired. As soon as Lafayette held possession of the redoubt taken by the
Americans, he despatched a message to Baron de Viomenil announcing the
fact, and inquired where the baron was.
"Tell the marquis," answered the baron, "that I am not in mine, but I
will be in five minutes;" and he was.
During the whole of the bombardment, Washington, as usual, was seen in
the most exposed positions, cheering his men and directing the assault.
One day, as he stood beside the grand battery with Knox and Lincoln, and
shot and shell flew around him, one of his aides, anxious for his
general's safety, remarked:
"That is a very exposed situation, general."
"If you think so, you are at liberty to step back," Washington promptly
answered.
Just then a musket ball struck the cannon in the embrasure, rolled
along, and fell at the general's feet.
"My dear general, we can't spare you yet," exclaimed General Knox,
grasping Washington's arm.
"Only a spent ball," responded Washington coolly; "no harm was done."
On the 17th of October Cornwallis sent a flag, with a letter, to
Washington, asking for a cessation of hostilities twenty-four hours,
that consultation might be had respecting terms of surrender. It was
not, however, until the 19th that the terms of capitulation were agreed
upon, and the renowned Cornwallis with his army became Washington's
prisoners.
The time and method of the formal surrender being agreed upon,
Washington warned his troops against any exultant demonstrations that
might wound the feelings of the conquered.
"My brave fellows," he said, "let no sensation of satisfaction for the
triumphs you have gained induce you to insult your fallen enemy. Let no
shouting, no clamorous huzzaing, increase their mortification. Posterity
will huzza for us."
By the surrender of Cornwallis, Washington received over seven thousand
prisoners, and one hundred and sixty pieces of cannon. Counting the
sailors, negroes, and Tories who became prisoners, the whole number
amounted to nearly twelve thousand.
Thatcher describes the scene of the formal surrender as follows:
"About two o'clock the garrison sallied forth, and marched between the
two columns (the Americans on one side and the French on the other) with
slow and solemn steps, colors cased, and drums beating a British march.
They were all well clad, having been furnished with new suits prior to
the capitulation. They were led by General O'Hara on horseback, who,
riding up to General Washington, took off his hat and apologized for
the non-appearance of Lord Cornwallis, on account of indisposition.
Washington received him with dignified courtesy, but pointed to
Major-General Lincoln as the officer who was to receive the submission
of the garrison. By him they were conducted into a field where they were
to ground their arms. In passing through the line formed by the allied
army, their march was careless and irregular, and their aspect sullen.
The order to "ground arms" was given by their platoon officers with a
tone of deep chagrin, and many of the soldiers threw down their muskets
with a violence sufficient to break them. This irregularity was checked
by General Lincoln; yet it was inexcusable in brave men in their
unfortunate predicament. The ceremony over, they were conducted back to
Yorktown, to remain under guard until removed to their places of
destination."
There were twenty-eight stand of colors to be delivered up. Twenty-eight
British captains, each bearing a flag, were drawn up in line. Opposite
to them, twenty-eight American sergeants were placed to receive the
colors. At a given signal the colors were surrendered.
The next day Washington addressed his army in words of gratulation and
tender regard. He issued the following order, also, to the army:
"Divine service is to be performed to-morrow in the several brigades and
divisions. The commander-in-chief earnestly recommends that the troops
not on duty shall universally attend, with that seriousness of
deportment and gratitude of heart which the recognition of such
reiterated and astonishing interpositions of Providence demand of us."
In the midst of this rejoicing, Washington received the sad intelligence
that his step-son, John Parke Custis, was lying at the point of death.
Mr. Custis accompanied his mother, Mrs. Washington, to Cambridge, the
first winter of the Revolution, and became one of her husband's aides.
He was taken sick after the army invested Yorktown, and no hope of his
recovery was entertained. He longed to live, however, to witness the
surrender of Cornwallis. On the day of the ceremony of capitulation, he
was taken from his bed and conveyed to the place, where he might behold
the scene. The ceremony over, he was willing to be conveyed to Elthain,
where he was taken immediately. Within thirty hours thereafter, the
message came to the general that Custis was in a dying condition.
At midnight Washington, accompanied by a single officer and groom,
started on horseback for Elthain. By rapid riding he reached there in
the morning twilight.
"Is there no hope?" he said to Dr. Craik, who met him at the door.
The doctor shook his head. Bursting into tears, Washington stepped into
an adjoining room to indulge his grief, requesting to be left alone.
While bowed in sorrow there, Custis expired.
On entering the chamber of death, Washington lovingly embraced the
weeping wife and mother, now a widow, tears responding to tears, his
deep sorrow showing how dearly he loved the departed one.
When he was able to control his grief, he turned to the group of
sorrowing friends, and said:
"From this moment I adopt his two youngest children as my own."
His presence being demanded at Yorktown, without rest or refreshment he
mounted a fresh horse, and returned thither before his absence was
known, except to some of his aides.
It deserves to be recorded that the capture of Cornwallis could not have
been accomplished without the co-operation of the French fleet; so that
the reader has before him the remarkable fact that, in Washington's
early military career, he joined the English to conquer the French,
while in his closing military life, twenty-five years thereafter, he
joined the French to conquer the English.
Another example of the divine blessing upon small battalions was
furnished by the surrender at Yorktown. Cornwallis planned, during the
siege, to withdraw his troops over the river in sixteen large boats,
which he collected for the purpose, and, having reached Gloucester
Point, escape to New York. On the night arranged for the flight, a
violent storm arose, so that it was impossible for him to cross the
river. That was his last, lost opportunity. Divine Providence thwarted
his purpose, and gave victory to American arms.
In the siege of Yorktown Washington rode a splendid sorrel charger,
white-faced and white-footed, named Nelson, and "remarkable as the first
nicked horse seen in America." The general cherished this fine animal
with strong affection. "This famous charger died at Mount Vernon many
years after the Revolution at a very advanced age. After the chief had
ceased to mount him, he was never ridden, but grazed in a paddock in
summer, and was well cared for in winter; and as often as the retired
farmer of Mount Vernon would be making a tour of his grounds, he would
halt at the paddock, when the old war-horse would run, neighing, to the
fence, proud to be caressed by the great master's hand."
No sooner did Cornwallis surrender than the commander-in-chief
despatched a courier on horseback to Philadelphia, to bear the glad
tidings to Congress. It was past midnight when the courier reached the
city, and the night watchmen, on their respective beats, had just cried,
"Twelve o'clock and all is well!"
They caught the glad news with joy, and the next hour they cried:
"One o'clock, AND CORNWALLIS IS TAKEN!"
Wakeful citizens in bed could scarcely believe their ears. They started
up, and listened. Again the joyful tidings were repeated:
"CORNWALLIS IS TAKEN!"
Hundreds sprang from their beds in wild delight. Lights began to appear
in the dwellings, darting from room to room. Soon men and women rushed
from their habitations into the streets in the greatest excitement. Some
were half dressed, scarcely knowing, in their exuberance of joy, whether
they were in the flesh or out. Many wept to hear the news confirmed, and
as many laughed. Not a few caught up the watchmen's cry, and ran from
street to street, announcing, at the top of their voices:
"CORNWALLIS IS TAKEN! CORNWALLIS IS TAKEN!"
Every minute added to the throng in the streets; men, women, and
children joining in the exhilarating exercise of sounding out their
excessive delight upon the night air. Neighbors clasped hands and
embraced each other to express their gladness. Many were too full for
utterance; they broke down in tears with their first attempt to join in
the general acclaim. Such a varied, impulsive, uncontrollable expression
of joy was never before witnessed in that city.
Soon the bell on the old State-House rang out its gladsome peals, the
same old bell that signalled the adoption of the Declaration of
Independence, July 4, 1776. Other bells, one after another, united in
the grand chorus of jubilation, supplemented by the thunder of artillery
from the fortifications about the city, until every method of expressing
real joy seemed to combine, as if by magical art.
At an early hour on the next morning Congress convened, and listened to
the reading of Washington's letter, announcing the surrender of
Cornwallis. The scene can be better imagined than described. That body
was quite unfitted for the transaction of any business, except that
which eulogized the commander-in-chief, and the brave men who had fought
the battles of the country. Irving says:
"Congress gave way to transports of joy. Thanks were voted to the
commander-in-chief, to the Counts De Rochambeau and De Grasse, to the
officers of the allied armies generally, and to the corps of artillery
and engineers especially. Two stands of colors, trophies of the
capitulation, were voted to Washington; two pieces of field ordnance to
De Rochambeau and De Grasse; and it was decreed that a marble column,
commemorative of the alliance between France and the United States, and
of the victory achieved by their associated arms, should be erected in
Yorktown."
Finally, Congress issued a proclamation, appointing a day for general
thanksgiving and prayer, in acknowledgment of this signal interposition
of Divine Providence.
This done, Congress adjourned to assemble, at a later hour, in a public
house of worship, there to join, with the grateful multitude, in praise
and thanksgiving to God for His blessing upon the cause of liberty.
When the news of Cornwallis' surrender reached England, the
disappointment and chagrin were well-nigh universal. The British
ministry were astounded by the unexpected tidings. Lord Germain
announced the fact to Lord North.
"And how did he take it?" inquired a public man.
"As he would have taken a ball in the breast," replied Germain.
"What did he say?"
"He opened his arms and exclaimed wildly, as he paced up and down the
apartment, 'O God, it is all over!'"
As soon as Washington could leave he retired to Mount Vernon for a few
days, from which place he wrote to General Greene: